Sweet Serendipity
by crc2010
Summary: Troy is at college and unhappy with everything about his life. A dark world of love, heartbreak, and depression. What is a Wild Cat to do? SLASH! TROY/RYAN TRYAN!
1. Chapter 1: Rewritten

**Author's Note: Alright, So it has been a good while since I have updated this story, and written for High School Musical all together. I decided I needed to quit putting it off so here is the first chapter of Sweet Serendipity. Also, my mood and mindset have changed since the original prologue so story may go in a completely different direction. Hope you enjoy and as always REVIEW!(:**

**P.S. Sorry for a rewrite of this chapter. The scene of Troy cutting his wrists burned in my mind and didn't sit right with me. I just don't see him as going that far, maybe Ryan, but not Troy. So I HAD to remove that tidbit.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL OR IT'S CHARACTER'S. I DO, HOWEVER, OWN THIS STORYLINE AND FICTIONAL CHARACTER'S CREATED BY ME. ANY REPUBLISHING OF THIS STORY ON ANY SITE OR IN ANY FORM IS PLAGUIRISM AND IS ILLEGAL.**

Chapter 1:

Troy

I dodge the crowd on the sidewalk, and make my way to my first class. I try to hide my face from anyone who could possible recognize me. I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone today. I just want to get to class, get my assignment, and retreat to my room until time for practice. I groan at the thought of going to practice.

Back at East High I was king of the court. The stadium was my castle, and the fans were my followers. At college, I'm nothing but a mere jester working to stay on second string, something my coach never told me would happen when persuading me to attend Berkeley.

I was promised a full ride and with "hard work" I'd be starting in no time. I work harder at basketball than I ever have before, but I can't seem to keep up. The rest of my team dribbles circles around me, and make me look like a complete idiot. Which results in taunting from them in the locker room, and on campus.

Working hard at basketball wears me out, and my performances fall flat. My voice is giving out, and I'm too exhausted to learn any of my lines or routines. I went from having a lead roll to chorus. The cast, who you think would accept me and understand, avoids any non-required communication with me.

I am absolutely alone here. I have no friends, no life, and my family is over a thousand miles away from me. My friends from high school never have time to talk, let alone make plans to get together. Gabriella is climbing to the top of her chosen school, and never has time to see me. She's one of the reasons I chose to come here. She was close enough that I could have someone to talk to when times got rough.

I walk into the large auditorium-style class room and take a seat to the far right in the front row. I've learned from attending classes that the front rows are the easiest to avoid anyone. I sit my backpack on the ground and get out my textbook and a notebook. If I'm avoiding everyone, then I might as well be a good student. I owe my parents good grades if I can't provide a basketball game or a performance worth attending.

"Troy Bolton?" A soft voice calls from behind me. I groan to myself, and silently curse that I've been found.

But the voice belonged to someone I never expected to see. Ryan Evans in the flesh was standing behind me. My heart quickened a few beats. Ryan and I attended East High together, and he was the notorious Drama King, and twin brother of Ice Queen Sharpay Evans. He was also the only out gay student at school, and was proud of his homosexuality status.

He never let the thoughts of others bother him, and he wore and acted the way he wanted too. To say he was flamboyant would be an understatement. In high school he always had outrageous outfits filled with sequins, diamonds, bright colors, and a matching newsboy cap. His looks have matured now days. His hair forms a small faux hawk, and he retired his hat leaving his hair bare. Tight jeans and a pair of Sperry loafers cover his lower half. While a nice v-neck and cardigan cover his torso. He looks absolutely breathtaking, like he just walked off a runway or a photo shoot for Banana Republic.

I always had a bit of a crush on him, and always cursed myself for having feelings for another boy. I tried telling myself through school that it's okay to have feelings for another boy, especially Ryan Evans. He was able to accept it and date guys, why couldn't I? We would have been good together. Then I thought of all the taunting and bullying Ryan experienced and reminded myself it was wrong to have feelings for my own kind. After graduation Ryan departed for Julliard, and I never had to worry about having feelings for him again, until today. Until this very second.

"Ryan? What are you doing here? I didn't know you went here?" I move my bags and make room for him to sit beside me. I make sure my sleeves don't roll up exposing my scars.

"Well, Julliard was nice and I love performing, but Julliard wasn't for me. Sure, I was good back at East High, but at Julliard I was just another dancer in the background. I just couldn't keep up." Despite the depressing news about Julliard, Ryan still managed a warm smile across his face. "Besides, Berkeley is known for what I really want to do with my life."

What he really wants to do with his life? We just started second semester, and he already knows what he's doing for the rest of his life? I don't even know what I'm doing tomorrow.

Ryan must have noticed my internal rant from the questioning expression on his face. "What's that?" I managed to speak before coming off as completely illiterate.

"Writing. It's a passion I discovered at Julliard. It lets me fully release myself without killing my muscles."

"Alright enough talking, more writing. Instead of a long, boring lecture like you are used to, I want to hear from you. Write me five pages about what you expect out of this class. You have an hour, get to work."

What I expect out of English? I expect to learn about grammar and writing. The basics. How can I possibly write five pages about that? Ryan seems to be doing a good job, he's writing like crazy.

I stop my mindless inward babbling and begin writing. An hour later I end with two and a half pages. Ryan has eight pages. Great. Looks like I'm the only one who wasn't smart enough to complete a simple assignment.

We hand in our papers and head out. We make simple small talk on our way back to the dorms. I find out that he is on the floor above me in the dorm room, and he is going to try out for a late audition in the school's performance of Rent. More specifically for the role of Mark, the role that I had recently lost. Ryan attending here is just going to make me look even worse.

We part ways and I slam my door behind me and lock it. I don't have a roommate, he asked for a new room after one of my many breakdowns. Like the one I was about to have now. I look at my reflection. My brown hair knotted from the wind, my face wind burned, and tears sliding down my cheeks.

"Man up, Troy. Grow up already. Stop being a baby." The reflection yells at me, resulting in more tears. "What the hell is wrong with you? You use to have it all, and now what? You just give up and cry like a girl! You're becoming more and more of a faggot. Grow some balls, and step up to the plate. Stop being a GIRL!"

Before I know it my mirror is laying on the floor, my reflection scattered across the room. A dent is left in the wall from the basketball flying into the mirror. I fall in a heap on the floor and grab a piece of the broken glass and look at my reflection. If ever looked more pathetic than I did now then I'd be shocked. Unable to bare the sight of myself any longer, I toss the glass aside and curl into a ball and sob erratically.

An hour late the mirror is in the garbage, my arm is healing, and the RA is pissed at the dent. "You kicked a damn ball into the wall? What the hell were you thinking?"

_That my reflection was right. _"I was just horsing around. I was bored."

"Then go do something besides destroying the dorm. You can pay for this with your fees. I don't even want to look at you right now." The RA made his way downstairs fuming.

The entire floor is standing in the hall staring. The walls begin to close in. I feel my throat tightening, and it's hard to breath. I push past them, and head out into the courtyard to catch my breath. After a few deep breaths my lungs begin functioning like normal.

Ryan is in his room at his desk writing, I can see into the opened window from where I'm standing. The wind blows his curtains softly, and his short blonde hair moves softly with the breeze. He seems so peaceful and content with his life. I wish I could be like that. I wish I could accept myself like Ryan is able to accept himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Sorry for all the rewrites on the first chapter. I couldn't settle with it. I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to writing, especially when it's a story I'm passionate about. Anyways, I'm content with this chapter so I shouldn't be modifying it.**

**Also, I hope you don't mind me switching between characters. I guess that's my short attention-span kicking in. I had to throw in an input on Ryan, and I like alternating characters. I think it gives the story more depth.**

**Anyhoo, I'm done ranting and raving. Please REVIEW and ENJOY!(':**

**DISCLAIMER: STILL DON'T OWN HSM OR THE CHARACTERS. STILL OWN THE PLOT AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS BY ME. (:**

Chapter 2

Ryan

_Dear Diary,_

_I think I really am going to like it here. Unlike the fear and worry I felt all the time at Julliard, along with the pressure to stand out, I feel happy and at peace here. I don't worry about what people think of me, or the level of skill I have. I don't have to work extremely hard at fitting in and standing out all at once. Here I can just be myself. I can be Ryan Evans future Best-Selling-Author and Broadway Performer._

_As happy as I am here, I still can't help but to miss Sharpay. She's my sister, and more. She's my twin, my other half. She's my best friend. She's the one who convinced me to change schools. Her words still ring loud and clear in my head._

"_Ryan, for the love of God, if you are not happy there then transfer out! Don't stay because you feel obligated, stay because you love to be there. And if you are not happy, and are miserable all the time, then leave. No one is forcing you to stay and study there. That was your decision."_

_That was probably the best advice I have ever received, even if she was shouting at me erratically. But that's Sharpay, Miss Dramatic._

I finish writing in my diary, a practice I perform daily, and feel the cool wind breeze through the window. The news called for rain, but I refuse to shut the windows. It gets far to stuffy in a cramped dorm.

I barely have enough room for all my clothes. My closet back home was twice the size of this room, and my room was twice the size of this floor. I may not be as materialistic as Sharpay, but I still need my space. I was raised with the best, so it only seems natural that I would have the best in college as well. Maybe Mother can make a special donation to the library or theatre, and I can get my own floor, or a double room at the very least.

I rest my head in my palm and gaze out the window, a sigh escaping from my lips. Troy is down in the court yard. I'm not sure, but it looks as though he's been crying. That's odd. Troy Bolton, East High Basketball God, crying? Impossible. Nothing could break Troy in high school, so why would he be upset here? Sure he'd have to work harder, but Troy was amazing at everything he did. He seemed fine in class today.

English. Probably the best class I have this semester. The professor was strict, but friendly, and she asked for what we expected out of the class. How amazing? Normally, as students, we have no input on what we will learn or what we want to learn. It's so refreshing that a teacher would actually request that we demand what we want to learn.

I filled the pages in minutes. She requested five, but I couldn't stop myself. When I write my soul escapes. Even for simple assignments, I feel everything within my soul leak out on page. My every thought, want, fear, dream is all on the page to see. Even if it is about wanting to read Tolstoy, or requesting plenty of writing-based assignments, I let it all out. When I finished I had roughly eight to nine pages. I think I made a good impression with her, as I wrote the most out of class and was as descriptive as possible.

Troy only wrote a few pages. He didn't even get the required five. I know he isn't the brightest crayon in the bunch, but he isn't flat out stupid. He never really tried in high school, but he always did what was required of him and got by with decent grades. Turning in half of the required assignment? That doesn't sound like Troy at all.

The more I think about it, Troy is nothing like when I last seen him. In class he was as far away from the rest of the class as possible. In school he'd surround himself with people. Making friends was easy for him, he was always so open. And those beautiful blue eyes that were always filled with life seemed so distant and dark.

I watch him from my window lost in my thoughts, ironically centered around him. I watch as he shrugs away from passing peers. I watch him bury his head in his hands, and fist his beautiful, silky brown hair. Pain and frustration and sadness plaster his face. I wish I could just kiss the pain away. That is ridiculous to even think.

Troy will never be interested. It doesn't matter if I was his absolutely perfect type, it wouldn't work. I'm not a girl. And I learned a long time ago that you can not make a straight guy fall in love with you. Those things only happened in my dreams. But maybe being his friend would help him. I mean I was kind of his friend in school. We weren't close or anything, but we did hang out a few times. We had fun, too. At least I had fun. Maybe because the time we spent as friends, I dreamed of it transforming into something more.

A knock on the door jerks me away from my thoughts. I glance into the mirror at my reflection and adjust my shirt before opening the door. A guy who looks a few years older than me is standing there gnawing at his lower lip.

"Hi, Ryan Evans?" His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Yes? Can I help you?" I look out into the hall around him to reveal that he is a lone.

"Yeah, I'm Brycen. Brycen Hill. I was sent by Professor Winston, from the drama department, to deliver this script. He said for you to memorize the first five pages, and prepare for an audition tomorrow." His green eyes sparkles in the dim hall, and his dark hair swoops around his face. He's pretty for a boy. He's prettier than I am, and that's a compliment I take proudly. Sure, he seems a little shy, but once I crack him out of his shell we can have fun.

"Thanks Brycen. See you around I guess." I give my best "100Watt Evans" smile, flashing my sparkling teeth. My family has always been complimented on our outstanding smiles.

Brycen must think so too, because he is blushing a deep shade of red. Absolutely adorable. "Yeah, um, see ya." He let's out a deep breath and makes his way down the hall awkwardly.

Did I mention I really like this place? Maybe I can't have Troy, but I can always be his friend. Maybe find out what's wrong with him, and be there for him. And Brycen seemed so nice, and was really nice to look at. He acted like he was into me, so I don't see why I can't try to go for it.

This semester was going to be absolutely amazing, but I don't have time to dream about the rest of the semester. Because right now I have five pages to learn for a simple audition. Professor Winston sounds tough. Probably a failed, washed up Broadway dreamer. I refuse to become one. I'll make it. And I'll prove it by learning the lines right now.


End file.
